Chapter 8 #2
I wasn’t anticipating it being a human waiting for us back at the manor with the new omegas.
We don’t hide what we are, but we don’t flaunt it either.
Most humans know better than to involve themselves in our affairs.
Fear of our animal nature usually draws the line for us, and when fear isn’t enough, their intolerance of anyone different finishes the job.
In my twenty-eight years, I’ve never seen a human choose to step willingly into the darker corners of our world.
But this man has.
Hand outstretched, he steadies the shaken omegas as they climb down from his black panel van.
It’s another reminder of how far Thalassa’s reach stretched.
She wove allies out of places most of us would never have thought to look—different species, different worlds, all united under one cause.
If I wasn’t still nursing my bitter grudge at her for stealing my mate away before I could recognize her as mine, I may have felt more admiration for the woman.
But awe is wasted on the dead. Instead, I’ll save it for the daughter she left behind.
Noa, riddled with her own pain and exhaustion, slips seamlessly into her role the moment the first omega appears.
It's like a switch has been flipped and nothing else matters to her but them in this moment. Not me, not the devastation we’re still standing in the wake of, not even herself.
All she sees are the new arrivals who clearly need her.
The first to step out of the van is a young woman who can’t be more than twenty-two.
Red hair the color of a penny frames her round features, falling just to her collarbone.
For a breath, she reminds me of Talis, but whatever fleeting similarity I see dies quick.
This omega bears scars a privileged brat like Talis would never know.
Talis grew up sheltered, spoiled by her father.
The omega wears the weight of survival in her eyes.
She’s trying to conceal her fear behind a mask of courage, but even from my post near the porch steps, I see the way she trembles.
I silently commend her for the way she keeps her voice steady when she gives Noa and Seren her name—Hattie.
The next figure out of the van halts us all.
I feel Canaan freeze beside me, Rhosyn too, and I can’t blame them.
Male omegas are more rumor than reality.
They’re so rare that most shifters will never meet one in their lifetime.
I’ve known only one myself, a council elder from my youth who’s long been buried.
The young man is slight—only a half a head taller than Noa.
A mop of dark blonde curls tumbles into his eyes, and his too pale skin looks translucent under the glow of the porch light.
He says nothing, his clasped hands fidgeting with anxiety, but Noa doesn’t waver.
Doesn’t blink or faulter at his arrival.
His head shakes, lips pressed together, when she asks if he needs anything—food, water, medical attention.
His silence doesn’t discourage her. It only has her offering him a smile so soft it could melt steel.
A smile I’ve never earned, but one that would ruin me if she ever turned it on me.
Eventually, after Seren and Noa have both introduced themselves, he finds his voice. “Elio.” That’s all he manages before his gaze catches where Canaan and I stand. Whatever courage he’d gathered crumbles instantly, and his body folds in on itself like he’s bracing for pain.
His reaction to us makes me sick to my stomach, and before we can step in to fix it, Noa is already moving. She closes the distance carefully but keeps her hands to herself. She won’t risk startling him more with unprompted touch.
Her voice is steady, warm as honey. “Elio. I know it’s not easy to believe yet, but I promise you, no one here will harm you. Not ever.”
Over her shoulder, Noa’s mismatched eyes catch mine, and the fragile thread that still binds us pulls taut at the weight of her attention.
I understand the message behind her words.
She might not trust me to not shatter her again, but she trusts me with them.
Her Nightingales. She knows if it comes to it, I’ll stand between them and anything that threatens their safety.
From Rhosyn’s side, Siggy breaks away, stepping carefully toward the newcomers.
Stopping just short of them, she speaks softly.
“I’ve been where you are,” she tells Elio, who still hasn’t been able to lift his gaze from my boots.
“I know how scary alphas can be, but those two, Rennick and Canaan, they won’t let anything touch you. They’ll keep you safe.”
“You…” Elio rasps, the word catching in his dry throat. Beside him, Hattie tilts her head, also listening to what my young pack member has to say. “You were brought here too?”
Siggy shakes her head, her features darkening as cruel memories tug at her. “Not exactly. I escaped from where I was being held, and I ran until I didn’t think I could anymore. I found Noa. She’s been helping me feel safe ever since.”
Pride swells through me for both of them. For Siggy’s bravery, for Noa’s endless compassion.
Something in her words breaks through the tension. Elio and Hattie both ease marginally, enough to let Seren herd them toward the manor. Siggy joins, offering her presence as proof they aren’t alone. Canaan and I step aside, giving them a wide berth when they draw close.
Seren offers us a grateful look as she ushers them inside.
“We’ll get you both settled and checked over inside,” she says, guiding them up the painted porch steps. “How about something warm to drink? We’ve got lots of options. Just know, if Siggy here is in charge of hot chocolate, you’re getting mostly whipped cream and tiny marshmallows.”
“It’s the best part!” Siggy fires back, her voice fading as they vanish inside.
The rest of us stay back and Noa steps forward, addressing the human man. “I thought your message said three omegas.”
His mouth twists. He nods, but the change in his demeanor has my wolf bristling. “It did.”
Noa frowns but follows the man to the back of the van when he motions her to follow. He swings the doors open, the metal blocking my view. Then comes her gasp, sharp and strangled. It splits the air, and familiar dread has me moving to her side before I even register I’ve lifted a foot.
The sight stops me cold.
Rhosyn and Canaan close in behind me, their bodies also going rigid.
“Is that a fucking dog crate?” The question scrapes out of my throat like it’s made of razor blades and rage boils in my blood.
A dark-brown-and-black she-wolf lies curled on her side in the wire cage.
For a beat, dread spikes within, and I fear she’s already gone.
But then I catch it, the way her rib cage expands with a steady breath.
It may be dark out here on the street, but there’s no mistaking the truth of her condition.
The omega’s body is wasted down to nothing, her bones jutting sharp beneath a dull, matted coat.
She’s far too small, even for omega standards.
“The people who pulled her and the others out of that hellhole didn’t have a choice.
The poor thing is bordering on feral,” the human tells us.
The heartbreak in his voice eases something in me, as if it’s the proof I needed to know he’s not secretly a sadist who gets off on this.
“They had to sedate her. For her safety and everyone else’s.
According to the others from that same facility, she’s been trapped in this form for months.
No one knows what triggered it. They just know those sick fucks enjoyed the hell out of trying to force her to shift back.
Nothing worked. No matter what they did to her… ”
Noa sways on her feet at the sight. Her back brushes against my chest, and instinct has me reaching for her before I can think better of it. My fingers curl gently around her upper arms, steadying her against my front. She startles, but to my relief, she doesn’t pull away.
“It’s a protective measure.” Her explanation full of pained empathy. “Her wolf has taken over and is shielding her human mind from what was happening. If it’s been going on for as long as you say, I doubt her human half is even conscious of her surroundings anymore.”
Rhosyn sounds heartbroken from where she stands with Canaan, “Her wolf sacrificed herself to protect her.”
Whether it was her wolf who bore the torment or her human side, it never should have touched her in the first place. Omegas are meant to be cherished, protected, not broken for sport.
Silence settles over us until the human breaks it.
“What do you want me to do with her? Do you have a place I can help move the cage to?” he asks, sounding grim.
“I don’t think taking her out of it yet is a good idea.
For her or anyone.” From his sweatshirt pocket he produces a vial and a few orange-capped syringes.
“Here’s more sedative in case she wakes up and decides you’re her new enemy. ”
Before any of us can respond, a voice none of us expects to hear comes from the other side of the street. “I fear we may need it.”
We turn as one.
Emerging from the shadows is the High Priestess herself.
Still dressed in her now soot-stained funeral whites, the floor-length dress and shawl catch what little light there is and nearly glow against the darkness of the night.
My wolf bristles, unsettled that she managed to come this close without stirring any of my senses.
I have to remind him, and myself, that this witch can bend wind itself and uses her gift to mask her scent and silence her steps.